Okay, so I think I'm beginning to get the hang of this. I really have no idea how these two would act outside of work, so I'm kind of making it up as I go. I went over a few earlier episodes today, trying to get a feel for their earlier interactions and I think that helped. Let me know if I'm getting too OOC with them though…that's my biggest fear.
I'm relying on you guys to keep me on the straight and narrow. So far, you have all been an invaluable help to me. Thank you all so much, and special thanks to Jenn – I really appreciate your long reviews and honesty. Thanks again guys. Love to all!
Mike Doyle breathed in a breath of fresh air, the first he'd had after what seemed like ages. Warm sunshine bathed his face in its radiance, though only his left eye could pick up the reddish hues that shone through his eyelids. The light didn't hurt his eye per se, but it felt…weird. He still had his other eye, which the doctors had not removed although it was blind. He tended to keep his eyes closed during the day, but in the evenings, he would open both of them, he wasn't sure why. His attention was drawn back to the task at hand. He was finally free of the hospital, and making his way to Nadia's SUV. And then there was the stairs. These could be a problem. He had taken elevators up until this point, and this was his first blind steps experience. Nadia was at his side with her arm slipped under his, talking him through it.
"The steps are long, so I'll tell you before you get to the edge."
He nodded his acknowledgment. He paid attention to the amount of steps he took before reaching the edge, and by the time he was at the bottom, he had mastered it.
"You'll be thankful to know that my apartment is on the first floor," she said with a laugh.
"So whatever chance of exercise I might have had is now gone."
"Don't worry about it; I'm sure you'll find something to do. My car's just up the street."
"What do you drive?"
"An '03 Escalade. Why?"
"Just wondering. Cadillac huh?"
"What's wrong for Cadillacs?" she asked curiously.
"Nothing's wrong with them. Nice cars."
"What, did you expect me to drive a foreign car?"
Mike was startled by the defensive tone her voice had taken. She hadn't done that in a long time to him.
"No. Actually I was thinking more along the lines of a Blazer," he said with a grin.
"Well, yeah, you're right," she conceded, her voice softening. "Here we are."
She mentally chided herself for being so touchy about the car. I guess I'm still a little sore about the racial profiling thing, but that was uncalled for. She took a tighter grip on his arm, steering him toward the curb. He heard a click-beep noise, followed by a heavy door opening. He felt for the step, climbing into the seat without incident. She slammed the door shut and walked around the front of the SUV. He was already buckled when she got in.
"Good," she said with approval.
"I'm trying to get into the habit of putting them on again."
"Yeah, so am I. We just got you out of the hospital, and I don't want to see you as a projectile."
"That's good of you," he said sarcastically.
She started up the car and pulled away. Mike leaned his head back against the leather seats, reflecting on the last few days. Nadia had been really great. She came every day during her lunch break, bringing him his favorite fast food. She would stay as long as she could, seeming to stretch the time more and more every visit. They had talked about everything under the sun, from family, to houses they had lived in, to pets, to their first crushes. He had gotten to understand her much more in the last few days, knowing now how her past had helped shape who she was now. Her childhood had not been easy, and being uprooted from her Middle Eastern home had taken its toll on her life. But she had adjusted well, a trait which he had come to admire in her.
His first few days at the hospital had been very different for him. The permanence of his situation had not quite sunk in, and sometimes it still felt as though this was a bad dream that he would wake up from. He had acted strangely in the beginning, almost lighthearted, which wasn't like him. He blamed the drugs. Of course, it also could have been a subconscious attempt to shield his psyche from the trauma of losing his eyesight and his job in one fell swoop…but he liked the drug excuse better. Either way, time and a sudden cessation of medication soon brought him back to reality: he was blind and he would never enter the field again. That feeling of resignation had begun to grow over the last few days, starting in the back of his mind and expanding to take over his focus. He tried to beat it down, but it was pervasive. The nights were the worst. He would lay awake for hours, contemplated what he had done over his life, and what he could never do again. The pain grew with each day, and he didn't know how to cope with the feeling. His temper had grown shorter recently, and he was sorry to admit that Hannah and the docs had bared the brunt of it. He had made sure to apologize to Hannah for every nasty thing he had said before he left. She had merely pulled him into a bear hug, telling him that all was forgiven and she understood. He sure would miss her.
Through it all though, Nadia had been his savior. Go figure. He looked forward to her visits every day…it was what kept him going. Something about the way she spoke and what they spoke about soothed him. He could find a distraction in getting to know her better, and trying to figure her out had given him something to think about other than his own miserable situation. She was the only thing standing between him and wallowing in self-pity.
"Do you want your sunglasses?" Nadia's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Hmm?" he asked distractedly.
"Sunglasses…"
"Oh, yeah, sure," he replied as she placed the object into his palm. He put them on, turning once again to face out the window.
"You okay?" she asked. "You're more quiet than usual. Something wrong?"
"No, just thinking. How much further to your apartment?" he asked, making a conscious decision to be less brooding in front of Nadia.
"We're here."
He felt the car pull into a lot and quickly park.
"Home sweet home," Nadia stated as she got out of the car.
The door next to him opened as he fiddled to find the seatbelt. I didn't have any troubles buckling it in the first place.
"Here."
He stiffened a little as she reached across his lap and found the clip. Awkward…
"Thanks," he mumbled, climbing down out of the big SUV.
He followed her to the back, waiting for her to open the door. He had one suitcase and a duffle in his possession. She hefted them both out of the back, grunting a little at the weight of the suitcase.
"Here, let me carry the big one."
"Are you sure?"
He shot a look in her direction that stopped any further protest. Nadia sighed as she handed the big suitcase to him. He could be so stubborn sometimes. Irish men... She grabbed the duffle; then took his arm, guiding him toward the entrance.
"Watch your step here," she warned.
"When?"
"Now!"
Too late. Mike stumbled on the front step, cursing under his breath. Nadia caught his arm, leaning back to counter his weight. He stood up straight, stepping onto the stair with the suitcase.
"Sorry," she offered sheepishly.
"Yeah, we're gonna have to work on our timing a little," he said with a snort.
For a second Nadia thought he was angry at her. She hesitated to follow him up, waiting for him to say something.
"We going to stand out here in front of your apartment all day, or do you have a doorframe you want to run me into?" he asked cynically.
"Yeah, yeah, smart aleck, c'mon," she said, smacking his arm before leading him up to the door.
She led him through the double doors and down the hall a little way. The smell of hotel carpets on a hot day filled the air, but other than that, the place seemed pleasant.
"My door is the fourth on the right," she commented as they came to the entrance. She let go of his arm to unlock the door, then led him into the little entryway of her home. She took the suitcase from him, wheeling it off to the side out of their way.
"So, ya want a quick tour before you get settled in?"
"Yeah," he answered tiredly.
"Okay, over here on the left is the kitchen," she said as she led him into said room. "Here's the fridge and the stove is over here – which you better keep your hands off of – and the sink is right here next to it. These cabinets have cereal, and this little pantry has most of the canned stuff. Top shelf has chips and junk food."
"Mmm, yay," he commented dryly. Less exercise, less junk food. This sucks.
"Okay, now let's go back to the entrance again. Straight through here is the living room. Couch. Recliner. TV. Do you have your bearings?"
"Yeah, we're good."
"Okay, now come down this hall. This room on the right is yours, I'll take you inside in a second. This room on the left is the bathroom. Here's the sink, toilet's straight ahead and here's the shower. Got it? Okay, back into the hall. The end room here is mine. The bed is back center and there's a TV on the dresser. If you want to come in here to watc—" she mentally kicked herself. Why did she always do that?
"Why would I come in here if there's a TV in the living room?" he asked suspiciously.
"Um, the living room is on the sunny side of the place and tends to heat up on warm days. The AC in my room is better than in there," she said awkwardly.
He was right, that sounded suggestive. Of course, him living with her was suggestive in itself. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel uneasy. This was certainly going to take some getting used to.
"Um, okay."
"You want to see your room now?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," the fatigue once again creeping into his voice.
"You sound like you're pretty tired."
"I am."
"Okay, come down here."
She led him down the hall, steering him into his bedroom. She took him to the bed, showing him where the rest of the furniture was. He sank down on the end of his bed, letting his head fall into his hands. He hadn't expected to be so tired after the move from the hospital. And he hadn't even started unpacking yet. He felt Nadia sit down on the bed next to him.
"You okay?" she asked.
She reached over to put a hand on his shoulder, hesitating briefly. Finally, she let her hand rest near the back of his neck, casually rubbing at the taught muscles.
"Yeah, I'm just tired."
"Why don't you get some rest, and we can finish the fine details of the house later. We can get you unpacked too."
"Yeah, thanks."
She started to get up to leave, but then his cell phone rang. With an exasperated sigh, he pulled it out of his pocket. He went to open it, then paused.
"Would you see who it is?" he asked, stifling a yawn as he handed her the phone.
She took it, glancing at the display, "Margaret?" wondering why that name sounded familiar.
He held his hand out to her, growling in the back of his throat as he took the phone back, opening it with an irritated snap.
"What?" he asked, his voice betraying his obvious dislike of the person on the other line.
Nadia could not hear what 'Margaret' was saying back to him, but the garbled voice sounded annoyed.
"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking," he said coldly.
He reached up to rub the bridge of his nose out of habit, careful not to disturb the still healing cuts underneath his eyes. Nadia felt incredibly awkward standing there, but she didn't want to leave him alone just yet. Suddenly it dawned on her who he was talking to. Mike had told her a few days ago that he was divorced. He hadn't offered a lot of information, merely saying that it hadn't worked out with him and Margaret – him being a federal agent and all – and then he changed the subject. Nadia could relate to him with that. It was always hard to maintain a relationship with people outside of work because they had a hard time relating. She knew this from experience. Her discomfort increased now that she knew who it was.
"No, I'm living with a coworker until I can get my feet under me. Yes, she's a woman, not that it concerns you."
His face suddenly turned a livid shade of red. "No, we're not," he bit out.
Nadia shifted, guessing what his ex had just asked, now more uncomfortable than ever.
"Where is Emily?" he asked suddenly. "Yeah, okay. Do me a favor, call me when she gets home, okay? Okay?!" he asked, with a little more force. "Fine. Yeah. Bye."
He snapped the phone shut, slamming it on the bed next to him. He hung his head, his patience thoroughly exhausted. Suddenly he looked in her direction, his face softening considerably.
"Sorry," he said with a sigh. "I'm sure that was awkward for you."
Nadia swallowed nervously. "It's okay."
"Alright, now I'm really going to go to bed now," he said, yawning widely.
Nadia stepped forward and pulled the covers down for him, stacking the decorative pillows on the other side of the bed. She watched him pull off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the bed where he could find them easily. He scooted up to the top of the bed, sliding under the sheets and plopping his head down heavily. Nadia reached over and pulled the blankets over him, a foreign maternal instinct guiding her actions. She watched as a small smirk pulled at his lips. He turned to her, eyes still closed.
"Are you going to tuck me in and kiss my forehead too?" he asked, with less sarcasm in his voice than she would have expected.
He sounded so tired, and something else…resignation maybe?
"Yep," she said with a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."
She pulled the covers a little tighter over him, then reached down and brushed a few stray locks of hair from his forehead. This time, he didn't flinch at the contact, and almost seemed to enjoy it. She brushed her lips against his forehead, careful to avoid the cuts.
"Goodnight," she whispered.
Mike listened as she gently closed the door behind her. A tumult of emotions bombarded his exhausted mind. He wanted her comfort; needed her comfort, and he never needed anything from anyone. He had just let her tuck him in for crying out loud! What was wrong with him? He always hated being coddled, and yet he tolerated so much more from her than he did from anyone else. He knew full well that she felt unsure of herself, and that she was probably even questioning her decision to let him stay with her. Being able to mother him a little bit was probably making her feel better. But he hated that feeling of indulgence. He was a loner. He didn't need anyone looking after him. But that was before. Now he really did need her. But letting her do what she was doing, like the whole tucking-in thing, was the same as letting himself appear weak. Which was not like him at all. He was never weak. But still, he didn't really think that Nadia thought of him as being helpless. Maybe that was why gave her more leeway. Or maybe, he was willing to put up with a little pampering if it meant that she was going to kiss him like she just had. He smirked to himself; that sounded like an acceptable justification for his lack of protest. He touched his forehead where her lips had just been, feeling a slight flutter in his stomach. Okay this is just ridiculous, Mike! Now you're getting the warm fuzzies. To hell with this, I'm going to bed!
Nadia busied herself putting together an easy dinner and listening to a soothing Enya CD. She felt like rice and chicken, and she recalled Mike saying that there was just about no meal in the cosmos that he wouldn't eat. This was good, because cooking was not her forte. She usually ate on the go, and the few times that she did eat at home were usually readymade meals or Raman soup.
She sighed deeply, thinking back on the events of the last few days as she spiced up her rice. She tried not to think too much about the events of that first day she met Mike. Too many painful memories were attached to it. Yet, even so, she couldn't help but be awed by the fact that she had gone from hating his guts to seeking his affirmation and comfort in a period of about twelve hours. When he first showed up, she let his reputation color her entire reaction to him. And his attitude upon arrival only encouraged her suspicions. Suffice it to say, he did not make a good first impression. He had come in, barking orders to anyone and anything, and not giving a crap what other people thought of him. But that was who he was: cold, ruthless, and completely consumed by his job. She shuddered as she remembered the cruel way he had interrogated her, absentmindedly rubbing her throat as she recalled the memory. But as she ran over it in her head again, she remembered something that had not stuck with her before. When he had first walked into the room, he had pulled a chair in front of her, calmly telling her that he would do whatever it took to get the answers he needed. She recalled the look in his eyes – he was pleading with her to give up the information that he thought she had. She had spat back a nasty comment about him. He had lowered his head, and when he raised it again, the pleading look was replaced by dark cold eyes. That was when he grabbed her throat. Before, she could only remember the coldness in his eyes, but now, that look of desperation was more vivid to her. She saw that expression many more times that day – when he told her that he was still looking for his answers to life; when she told him Milo had died; even when he lay there in the infirmary. It was those eyes, or rather the truth behind them, that had made her change her mind about him. That's when he became Mike to her. Doyle was cold, calculating, and dangerous, but Mike…Mike was a man of integrity, a man of honor. It was Mike that she was attracted to.
She felt as if she had begun to understand him in those few hours. Yes, he was a hard ass, but his job had made him that way. When she thought about it, Jack was the same way. They were both consumed by their sense of duty, and they were willing to do anything to protect their country. They were willing to sacrifice their humanity and let themselves become calloused in order to shield the people they cared for. It was a horrible sacrifice to make, but CTU could not function without men like Mike and Jack. She finally understood that now.
"Hey."
Nadia jumped, her hand brushing against the hot pan that held her rice. She let out a sharp hiss of pain, rubbing her hand instinctively. She had not heard him emerge from the room because of the CD in the background. Silently cursing Enya, she turned back to face Mike. He had heard her hiss, but had no idea what happened.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched in his face and voice. He slowly walked into the open room, trying to remember how many steps it was to the counter.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, reaching out to guide him closer.
He held on to her arm when she let go of him, his hands sliding to catch both her wrists.
"What happened?"
Nadia knew he wouldn't let go of her until she gave him a straight answer, so she decided to downplay.
"Oh, I just had a clumsy moment and touched my hand to a hot pan, no big deal," she said lightly.
Her hand was beginning to throb and she could tell from Mike's look he wasn't buying her little excuse. She shivered a little as his hands slid down her wrists and he let his fingers gently stroke the back of her hands. She flinched as the rough pads of his thumbs rubbed against the tender skin on her burn. He stopped, now certain that it was worse than she had let on.
"Go get a burn kit," he ordered, the "Doyle" back in his voice.
"Mike…" she ventured.
"Now."
Okay, that was not a tone one argued with. She complied, disappearing briefly into the bathroom to get the First Aid Kit. He was leaning patiently against the counter when she returned. She opened the kit at the table, applying some salve and a bandage to her injury as he silently "observed" her. Finally satisfied that all had been righted, he made his way across the floor and sat down at the table.
"Smells good," he commented.
"Thanks – rice and chicken. You like that, right?"
"Yeah. I'll eat anything, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah, I forgot. But being willing to eat anything doesn't mean that you like it."
"True, but I like most of what I eat, which is everything."
Satisfied that cooking for this man was going to be a breeze, Nadia began setting the table. I think that I can get used to this. I mean, he's so low maintenance, I'll hardly know he's here. Filled with confidence once again, she put out the food and sat down to their quiet dinner.
They talked long into the night, sharing childhood stories. Mike liked this; it reminded him their conversations back at the hospital. Nadia was happy because for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a friend. Not just a coworker, but someone she could really talk to and share personal things with. She trusted him implicitly, and something about him made her feel unashamed to bare her true feelings to him. She wasn't afraid to not have all the answers with Mike. He didn't expect anything from her, and she had no reason to put on a show for him. He saw through all that anyway.
They both finally went to bed a little after midnight. But both of them stayed awake long into the night, sorting through the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm them. Still, they both finally shut their eyes with a contended feeling, just knowing that the other was just down the hall.
